Relena
by canisa
Summary: Gundam W shounen ai (1+2) AU. ANTI-Relena fic!!! (despite the title). set in the world of fantasy.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Relena 1/10? Author: Canisa Pairng: leading to 1+2/2+1 Warning: AU (No GUNDAM!!!!), shounen ai, ANTI-RELENA!!! Despite what the title may imply..  
  
Note: This fanfic is inspired by the book "Rebecca" by Daphne Du Maurier. I did not create any of the Gundam wing characters (as much as I want them.). Mostly first person narrative. should be fairly easy to guess who it is ^___^ This is a rewrite of my first fanfic! I had posted it on the gw-fan ML one and a half years ago... not sure if it was on 1x2ML though.. And looking back now, there are a lot of things I'd like to change to make the fic better since I still like the concept of this fic ^____^ (just in case you are interested, the original title was "nothing as it seems".  
  
Prologue  
  
In his memory, she was always beautiful and charming. The sun would always seem to be shinning when she appeared. Her smile would always radiate from her pretty little face and infected everyone around her. Her voice, soft and pleasant, always seemed to hypnotize any souls and her eyes would always capture everyone's heart with their clear aqua blue.  
  
She was the definition of perfection. There was no doubt in his mind that her beauty along could make men move mountains and drain the seven sea if she desired.  
  
Oh yes. She was always beautiful.  
  
He sighed and dropped his head slightly as he slide down against the wall. The air around him was getting thicker and the darkness outside of the window only chilled his heart even more.  
  
He let out a bitterly smile. His eyes briefly glazed over the scene before him.  
  
Even now, when she lied there on the cold floor as her long blonde hair spilled messily on the floor, she still looked beautiful. Even with a stream of crimson oozing out of her chest and running down her golden gown and pooling next to her limp arm, she still looked amazingly beautiful.  
  
He tumbled back and for the first time in his life he was unsure of what to do. With his head down, he quivered, feeling nothing but the coldness of the blood-tainted dagger that he gripped so tightly in his fist.  
  
Did he make the right choice? Did he do the correct thing? Was it the only way?  
  
He glanced at the still body on the floor and bit down his lips, driving out the lingering doubts.  
  
It had to be. There was nothing else that he could do.  
  
With determination, he stood up shakily. He had also lost so much blood that the sudden movement had made him dizzy. But he held onto himself immediately, borrowing support from the wall. The wound on his lower abdomine was so bad that a pool of blood was starting to gather at his feet. Wincing slightly, he placed his hand on the wound, applying pressure to stop bleeding. Though the wound was far from life threatening, he needed to treat it immediately. Sparing last glance at the motionless body, he turned and began to head for the door.  
  
As if on cue, a soft chuckle caught his attention. It was very soft, like a pin drop on the grassfield. But he caught it nevertheless because it had sounded innocent and serene and ..familiar. Locking his eyebrows tightly, his heart pounded in his chest furiously. Steeling his remaining strength, he turned around slowly, hoping that he was wrong, hoping that the sound was only a figment of his imagination, hoping that what he heard was his guilt playing tricks on him. But when he finally locked his eyes with the familiar clear blue, he confirmed his deepest fear.  
  
It was already too late.  
  
Chapter 1 ---The Thief----  
  
People nowadays are tense I tell you. If you look carefully, you can see the veins popping out of their forehead like every second. And you wonder why people die so early?  
  
That's because they fucking worry too much.  
  
Relax! Step back a little. Life would be so much more pleasant if you don't let yourself get attached to anything. After all, we come with nothing and we leave with nothing. That's the rule, man. God makes it this way and we aren't there to oppose it.  
  
So the best policy of surviving this life is to let go.  
  
Just let go.  
  
Things that you own right now. let it be a cottage, your 10 beautiful concubines or even your precious gold and silvers. Face it man, you are never gonna take those with you to the grave. So why bother? You really wanna spend every waking moment of your life worrying about your possessions? So what if one of your women ran away with another lowlife, Big Deal. You had your fun. So what if some jackass stole your gold and silvers? As I said before, it's not like you are gonna take it with you when you die anyway so why banging your head over it?  
  
You still with me here? Do you buy this bullshit? I can see from the vacant look of your eyes, you do not. That's all right. No hard feelings. I totally understand.  
  
Because the fat man chasing behind me did not buy it either.  
  
"BRAT!"  
  
Ah, perfect example. Remember I told you earlier that some people just could not let go?  
  
"You stop right there!"  
  
This fat guy was unfortunately bounded with his materialistic possession, his bread store.  
  
"STOP!!! YOU LITTLE THIEF!!!"  
  
Like everyone else in the Sanc Kingdom, he is fucking worrying about a miniscule detail in his life, which translates to the loaf of bread underneath my arm. The poor bastard has been chasing me throughout this miserable market place with no luck. From the glance over my shoulder, I could see that his face is red from this exhaustive chase. I could hear, besides the useless moronic shouting of the other merchants, his heavy breathing. Judging from his gross, overweight body, I'd say he is risking his precious health for nothing but this tiny dingy little piece of bread.  
  
When the possessor is owned by his possessions, it's a really sad thing, don't you think?  
  
"Somebody!! Stop him!!!"  
  
And you wonder why people die so early.  
  
"Oi---- Fat ass! You need some exercise there!" I just couldn't help it. I yelled out in my usual mocking tone. "Consider it as a donation to the poor." I laughed, my long chestnut hair blown in the hot summer breeze. I rushed through the little alleyway of the market place with ease. 16 years of living on the street gives you that kind of advantage. You get to know the turn and curve of the streets.  
  
Yes. By now you already know what I am.  
  
I am a thief, a lowly despicable thief who leeches within the society. But how can you blame me for what I am? Abandoned ever since I could remember, I can only go by my instinct to survive. With no one to provide for me, with no one to shelter me, I learn the tricks and skills to get myself fed.  
  
Yes, I steal, but not for the wealth. I only take what I need in order to keep my strength to live in this world, because, like I said before, we are all gonna die anyway, there is no need for myself to attach to anything materialistic.  
  
And I have been a very clever thief for no one has ever caught me.. until ...  
  
"ITAI!!!!!" I rubbed my bruised cheek as I landed heavily on the ground, my bread fell on the ground, smudged by the dirt. "Fuck." I jumped to my feet, one hand quickly snatched the bread and ready to run. Yet, a strong hand landed on my right shoulder, preventing me from doing so.  
  
I winced. It was a strong grip, threatening to break the bones underneath if I were to move. I turned around only to meet with a pair of cobalt eyes. "So you are trying to be a hero ne? Well, today is just the day!" I gave him a nasty smile. Suddenly dropping my weight, I curved up my fingers into a tight fist and ready to aim for his fragile pretty nose, but damn, the man was just too quick. His other hand reached for my left arm immediately and twisted it behind my back like I was a piece of wood.  
  
"ITAIII!!!" I screamed again, delivering promises of death from my narrowing violet eyes. But my captor did not waiver against my glare. The cobalt blue eyes stared back at me with indifference.  
  
"Thank you, sir!!" The fatman finally caught up with us. He breathed laboriously as he bent, one hand resting on his knee. "Thank you for catching this little thief!"  
  
I sneered. I broke away from the icy eyes and turned to the bread owner. I strained a malicious grin, trying to appear as lighthearted as I could without showing my panic.  
  
"How much?" my captor suddenly spoke in an emotionless tone. One so cold that I shuddered to imagine that it could only come from the land of dead.  
  
The bread owner was surprised at the question apparently as he widened his eyes. He leaned a little closer to my captor as he tried to understand. "How much?" He scratched his head like a no-head big fat pig. "Sir.. I am not quite sure what you mean..this little brat is not my slave. "  
  
My captor raised his eyebrow slightly. Oh yeah. I could just tell how much patience and love he has for this fat guy. "The bread. How much"  
  
The bread owner was more than confused but he gave the figure to him. I, on the other hand, started to boil in a fury. "Look, you punk! I do not need you God damn charity here. Take me to the authority for all I care. I don't want to owe you anything, you got that?" I could hear the sharp edge of my tone piercing through the air. The market place suddenly quieted down. The world seems to be centering around me and my captor. I maintained my glare.  
  
I want to be free!  
  
I screamed inside my head.  
  
I do not want any strings from this world to attach to me. I do not want his help. I do not want to have him lingering in my mind.  
  
But damn the man who failed to see through me. He suddenly released me and threw a piece of silver coin to the bread owner.  
  
"I do not want your god damn sympathy!!" I scream at him, knowing too well that it was only a futile attempt.  
  
The man ignored my words as he turned his back, proceeding to leave.  
  
Furious, I stepped up, grabbing his wrist from behind. But with a fluid movement, he disentangled himself from me easily. He gave me this one last look with his icy blue eyes before he disappears into the crowd.  
  
Damn him...  
  
I dropped on the ground like a dead weight and the image of him could no longer go away.  
  
I was cursed.  
  
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
The next time I encountered that pair of indifferent blue eyes was only two days after. It totally took me by surprise. Of all the places I have found him once again. Though it was from a distance, I recognized him immediately.  
  
I shifted my feet nervously as I watched him standing at the balcony of our grand castle. I blinked my eyes.  
  
Could it be?  
  
I stared at his delicate features. Only two days and he looked so pale and sickly that I could not believe that this was the man who had captured me with such strong grip at the marketplace. His commoner clothing was gone. Instead, he is wrapped in a white toga lined with golden edge. Though his brown messy hair was still untamed underneath his heavy crown braced around his forehead, his eyes displayed the same coldness that I had witnessed from two days ago.  
  
Could it be that he is no other but the king of our Sanc Kingdom?  
  
"My countryman." The king's advisor announced as he steps up from behind the King. The tall advisor tilted his head a bit, letting his brown hair fell only on one side of his face. His green eyes were stern and flat. He had looked as if he had not slept for days.  
  
But I did not pay too much attention to the advisor. I only continued to stare at our King, half listening to the announcement. I suppose that it is expected that I do not recognize the King of our kingdom. In the past, he hardly showed his presence at the public gathering. It had always been the Queen who addressed to the public.  
  
"A tragedy has occurred." The advisor spoke with grave expression.  
  
My heart cringed as I realized what his identity means. He is the king of our country and he has a beautiful wife who...  
  
"Queen Relena has been assassinated."  
  
I widened my eyes in surprise as I heard the words clearly spoken.  
  
Assassinated?  
  
I watched our King stood like a rock on the balcony.  
  
Was that the reason he became so sickly and pale? Because his beloved Queen was assassinated?  
  
Strangely, my heart sank. The thought of our King grieving for his love was not exactly appetizing.  
  
"In order to protect our country and our King, the king's personal bodyguard is to be chosen among the greatest swordsmen." The advisor ignored the shock and whispers permeated in the crowd down below him. He raised his voice slightly but not too highly such that it recaptured everyone's attention. "A match will be conducted two weeks from now. And I urge you to volunteer your skill. Our country needs you to maintain its stability and peace."  
  
I stared into the lifeless blue eyes of our King. And I knew instantly what I needed to do in order to cast away the shadow in my dreams.  
  
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 


	2. The Jester

Title: Relena 2/8 Author: Canisa Pairng: leading to 1+2/2+1 Archive: none for now.. but if you want it, let me know and you will receive ^_^ Warning: AU (No GUNDAM!!!!), shounen ai, ANTI-RELENA!!! Despite what the title may imply..  
  
Quick Summary  
  
Sanc Kingdom's Queen, Relena, had been assassinated. The King's advisor decided to have a fighting match in order to find a perfect personal guard for King Heero Yuy to prevent the tragedy from happening again.  
  
A thief, discovering that his savior was indeed the king himself, decided to enter the match to repay his debt..  
  
NOTE: this part was posted on 1x2ML a while ago. I have modified and add significantly.. ^_^ now that I have a better idea of what direction I want to head in..  
  
Chapter 2 -- The Jester --  
  
10 miles away from San Kingdom, the world looked as if it was dead. The sun was bright, heating up the sands mercilessly from above. There was no single living creature in sight. No vegetations. No animals. It was just the sand and the golden sun that dominated the sky.  
  
Just years ago, the scene was quite different from now. The land was greener and the river was filled with refreshing water. Courageous Hunters used to venture out here to look for dragons for the prestige of killing one. Adventurous diggers would camp out here to discover gold.  
  
Things had changed. Now the land was worthless as it contained nothing but the desert canyon.  
  
And then, as if it was the last cry from the dying land, an eagle suddenly appeared. It soared across the desert canyon from a distant place. It did not stopped to lament the land in the process of destruction. Instead, it headed toward Sanc Kingdom.  
  
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
I could not contain my laughter any longer.  
  
Tomorrow is going to be the most laughable fighting match I will ever see. Just take a look at some of the contestants gathered in Square and you will be laughing on the ground like there is no tomorrow. You have the freaking farmer with his pitchfork and the woodmaker with his saw. And then, of course, it is not until I see a pair of jesters joggling seven rainbow colored sandbags in their baggy silly suits, do I finally feel the lower part of my jaw hit the ground.  
  
"So really. Where is your weapon, Jesters?" I just could not help it. I had to ask because here I am scratching my head off and still cannot understand how in the fucking world can ANYONE use sandbags as weapons?  
  
"This is our weapon." The jester with a funky blue hat said with a smile.  
  
"Weapon it is ours." The other jester with an equally funky red hat echoed.  
  
"Right." I snap my fingers, slightly annoyed by the repeat. "And how are you supposed to attack with those sandbags now?"  
  
"We use them to distract people." The blue one replied.  
  
At the same time, the red one suddenly flipped around and stood with his hands, while his rainbow colored sandbags magically landed on his shoes. "To distract people we use them."  
  
Double talk again. I feel a nerve popping against my temple. "So you can run away?"  
  
"Joggling 7 balls is impressive to watch." The jester with blue hat flipped his body over and doubled what the red clown did.  
  
"Impressive to watch 7 balls joggled." The red one flipped back, standing normally on his feet.  
  
"So the opponent drops his weapon."  
  
"Weapon the opponent drops."  
  
"Then we win the match."  
  
"Match we..."  
  
They finally severed the popping nerve with their annoying repeat. I mean, I admit I talk a lot. But have every sentence repeated is just not my taste.  
  
"I think I got the idea." I smiled maliciously, my once big innocent violet eyes were now narrowed, akin to a lion in its hunting mode.  
  
Now, if are you wondering why the jester with red hat did not complete his sentence, well, silly you. Can you talk when someone lift you up from the ground by your throat? No? Exactly.  
  
"So what number are you?" I asked casually. Nice and polite just as if I was just asking for direction to some town or something, except, that my long nails were digging into the red jester's neck, possibly leaving red nasty marks at this moment.  
  
"Eh?" On the other hand, the poor jester with blue hat watched me with eyes full of terror, wanting to help his partner but was afraid that any single movement from him would only endanger his friend even more.  
  
I think he was so shock that he did not realize he was still standing on his hands. "The number for the match, silly." One corner of my mouth curved up.  
  
"2...216..." He trembled.  
  
"I say you are a bit too weak for the match." I tilted my head to the side. "Ah, I know." My fingers dug into red clown's neck a bit harder. "How about I do this favor for you guys." I could hear the whimper barely coming out of my victim's mouth. "Hand over the number badge and I will take your place." I requested politely.  
  
"What.."  
  
I dug my fingers deeper and gripped a bit harder and smiled even bigger. I can see the poor jester's face was starting to turn into a very unhealthy crimson color that matched his hat color. "Think of all the unnecessary cuts and bruises I am sparing you. With your skills, I doubt you can make it to the second round."  
  
"But.. But.." The jester with blue hat stuttered. "But we just paid for the number badge..they are still selling them at the gate...."  
  
Dumb-ass. I shook my head. Now, if I had the money, I wouldn't have to do this, would I?  
  
"Please let go of Mueller!" The blue jester suddenly cried out. A streak of tear washed down a trail on his color-painted face. "I don't think he is breathing!"  
  
Oops. I immediately loosen up the grip a bit. Hey, I am here for the number badge, not blood. "Hand them over, jesters." I relaxed into a smile.  
  
"INJUSTICE!!!"  
  
What is it now?  
  
I looked over my shoulder to the source of the shouting. And to my surprise, I spot a foreigner wavering a nice shinny sword at me. His eyes and his hair were as dark as the moonless night. He wore not the short plain tunic we wear, but tight black upper body clothing and baggy white pants like the clowns. But then, judging by his piercing eyes and determined expression, I'd say he is probably the only worthy opponent I have seen since this morning.  
  
"HERE!! Here!!! Take it!! Just let Mueller go!!" The jester suddenly dashed toward me. He shoveled his number badge into my hand. "Please let go of him!!!"  
  
"Sure thing." I chirped happily as I released my grip but the corner of my eyes stayed alert at the foreigner.  
  
As soon as Mueller hit the ground, his partner immediately scrambled toward his teammate and started to drag him away from me.  
  
"Dishonorable bastard! Hand them back their possession!" The foreigner pointed his sword toward me. "Jesters, have pride and get back here and take back your number badge."  
  
"No no no no no." Mueller the jester wailed. "Take me home! TAKE ME HOME, ALEX!!!"  
  
"You see!" I tug the number badge into my belt and shrugged. "They want me to do this favor for them." I threw a smile back at the jesters. "Isn't that so?"  
  
"Just get away from us!" The two jesters spoke simultaneously, probably for the first time, before they take off.  
  
Suddenly, I feel proud. Hey, I have cured their double taking, didn't I?  
  
"Well, they don't want it. I need it. So what's the problem here?" I unfolded my hands, smiling at the foreigner with a heavy dose of innocence.  
  
"It is unjust to bully the weak" The foreigner narrowed his eyes. "Show your weapon, thief."  
  
Weapon?  
  
Oh yeah, that's something I need to pick up somewhere too now that I have the number badge. Hum.. I think I spot a swordsman somewhere earlier.  
  
"Are you just going to stand there? Do not underestimate me, thief."  
  
"Oh no no no. I am taking your challenge quite seriously, it just that." I put both of my hands behind my head and threw a nice big smile at the impatient foreigner. "I am looking where I can find a weapon right now."  
  
"Don't make me laugh."  
  
I doubt that I can imagine him laugh either. Just take a look at that serious face and his neat black silky hair tightly held behind his head. If you say he is wearing a mask, I'd believe it.  
  
"You really don't have a weapon?"  
  
I heard a taint of disbelief in his voice and decided that maybe I should be at least a bit more serious and sounded responsible for him. "Well, I DO plan to have a sword by the time I go on the stage tomorrow but. yeah, for right now, I don't."  
  
"Hun!" The foreigner suddenly retracted his sword. "I do not fight the defenseless."  
  
Defenseless? And how defenseless do you think I am? I freaking rubbed the jesters bare-hand just now!  
  
But I said nothing and smiled at him benignly as I kept my thoughts to myself.  
  
"Thief." He said seriously. "My name is Wufei Chang. Remember it because when I see you on the stage tomorrow, justice will be served." The foreigner gave me this one last stern look before he turned and walked away.  
  
I only shrugged. I suppose I will see him in the later rounds. I could not image anyone here being able to beat him that easily. He did have an aura that invokes fear and respect.  
  
Not that I am afraid of him though, because the most terrifying enemy is always the one you least expected.  
  
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
"My King," The advisor lowered his head in reverence as he kneeled before the throne. "Forgive me for doing such an audacious thing without your approval." His emerald eyes stayed on the floor, never came up to meet the cobalt blues. "I was only concerned for your safety." He spoke calmly, with great weight.  
  
But the king did not say anything as he sat. Expressionless, he only stared at his advisor with indifference. The words passed through him without stirring.  
  
"My King." Realizing he would not receive any words from his King, the advisor finally lifted his head to meet the eyes boldly. A streak of concern faintly shown on his usual impassive face as the advisor continued to do his monologue. "Please allow the servants to bring you food." The advisor took in the fragile form of his King and pleaded. "It's been days since.."  
  
The King shook his head lightly.  
  
"My King."  
  
"It doesn't matter, Trowa." The King looked away. "It's almost time."  
  
"Time for what, My King?"  
  
The King closed his eyes.  
  
"My King?"  
  
"That day.." The King reopened his eyes slowly. "When you saved me and brought me into this Kingdom.."  
  
Trowa nodded. He remembered that day clearly. Three years ago, he had found this man when he was in the Desert Canyon carrying out a mission. It was pure luck. There was a sudden desert storm nearby such that Trowa dived into a cave in order to take cover. And it was there where he found him, lying on the ground, naked, barely breathing.  
  
Actually, the truth was, at first glance, Trowa had thought it was a body and not a survivor. He didn't think any man withstanding such condition could have lived. Not only was his body covered with so much blood such that he could not identify his fatal wounds, the man was also running a high fever and his lips were blue and charred from lack of oxygen and dehydration. Perhaps his heart was so weak that it could not pump enough blood through his body for his fingers and toes were as cold as a corpse. However, Trowa still managed to keep him alive while waiting for the storm to pass before he finally brought him back to Sanc Kingdom. And then the Queen..  
  
"..you never asked me where I came from."  
  
Trowa caught himself and refocused his attention to his King. "I did not." He agreed. A man's origin was not important to Trowa for he himself had come from a far away country that was destroyed a long time ago. Stories like his were so common that it was not even worth mentioning.  
  
It was always the same. Kingdoms engaged in wars for greed and power, leaving its people walking on the edge of destruction. It did not matter where one come from, the story remained the same. You could practically smell the sorrow and the hopelessness in the air. The mountain turned into blood valley and the greenland turned into sand and desert. The world itself was slowly breaking apart...  
  
"Trowa." The King spoke quietly. "If you knew." He leaned back on his throne. "That day." He lowered his eyes. "You would have let me died."  
  
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
"Isn't this the greatest sword you have ever seen?"  
  
Just as I decided to put the thought of the foreigner behind me and started to search for my weapon, I noticed a growing crowd to my left. Curiously, I head for that direction.  
  
"This sword is handed down 10 generations before me."  
  
What is that I heard? I just cannot believe my luck. I poked my head in to check out the speaker.  
  
"It is said that it had slain many dragons." The swordsman waved his treasured weapon in the air, showcasing it to the people around him.  
  
The crowd around me started to make this 'wooooo', 'waaaaaa' noises.  
  
I eyed the blemish-free sword waving in the air. Its perfect surface reflects even the cloud in the sky. The edge is so sharp that when the idiotic swordsman's hair fall on it, the hair immediately breaks into half and fell like autumn leaves.  
  
The sword was handed down 10 generations he said.  
  
I took a good look at the swordsman. Slightly overweight, double chin, a body that was filled with no single ounce of muscles but fat. I'd say his family has not slay a dragon for at least a couple generations.  
  
"Yo." I called out, pushing my way to the front.  
  
Annoyed at my interruption of his show-off, the swordsman turned, gauging me with his cockeyed eyes. "What do you want?"  
  
"I like that sword." I shrugged, deliberately letting my tunic slide a bit, revealing my seemingly skinny but sexy body. "And I want it."  
  
"Oh yeah?" The hostility was gone in a swift and replaced by lust. "And how are you gonna pay for it?"  
  
"Who says about paying?" I ran my fingers through my soft silky hair, loosening up my braid. "How about I win it by arm-wrestling?"  
  
The swordsman was surprised for a split second before he suddenly sprang a grin that I knew too well. "And what if I win?" The swordsman took my bait as he licked his lips.  
  
What an easy read.  
  
"Simple." I smiled, intentionally leaning my body forward so that the tunic slide even more. My lips were moist and my chestnut hair, already unwound, cascaded down my half naked body. "I will be your slave for one week. But if you loose, your family treasure, meaning, that sword, is mine to keep." I turned to the crowd. "And everyone here can be our fair judge."  
  
"Keep your words, boy. Keep your words." The swordsman laughed, not once doubted that he would be the winner. "It's game." He said slyly as he motioned the crowd to grab a desk and two chairs for the match.  
  
The crowd cheered as I boldly take a step toward him.  
  
I smiled sexily.  
  
And guess what? We all know who win that little arm-wrestling match.  
  
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
For people who read "Rebecca" you are probably wondering how the heck is this story inspired by that book? ^__^ well. er.. ^_^;;;  
  
A review please... let me know how I am doing ^_^  
  
DUO:: **** pout *** why did you make me look so mean!!?? CANISA: not mean.. just cocky ^__^ HEERO: *** glare **** don't make me too OOC CANISA: **** backing away from gun point *** TROWA: Please cut my lines. You make me talk too much. CANISA: I am trying!!! Trying!!!! WUFEI: You should have let me beat the crap out of that loud-mouth. *** smirk*** CANISA: ^__^;;;; QUATRE: When am I going to be on?  
  
CANISA: gosh, you bunch complain a lot don't you? 


End file.
